


Awakening

by HouseAu3



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Snowpiercer Fusion, Big Bang Challenge, F/M, Families of Choice, Friendship, Gen, I actually have no idea how the relationships between characters will pan out, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8144417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseAu3/pseuds/HouseAu3
Summary: White. That’s all the world is. Layers and layers of snow on top of ice on top of fields no one has seen in decades. Only a fool will brave through the Outside these days. Only the dying will ever know the feel of wind cutting their cheeks, of snow swallowing up their feet.The man is neither.Set in the world of Snowpiercer. Written for Coldflash Big Bang 2016.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragdragdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragdragdragon/gifts).



> Thanks [Dragdragdragon](dragdragdragon.tumblr.com/) for betaing (is that a word?). I signed up for 10k but this story gets bigger and bigger the more I wrote - which happened to me a lot. I reached the 10k mark but this isn't even close to the end. Sorry I wasn't able to finish the whole thing before posting. I'll try to as soon as I can. Then I can work on my other WIPs... God I'm terrible at planning.

Outside, February 20th, 2035

White. That’s all the world is. Layers and layers of snow on top of ice on top of fields no one has seen in decades. Only a fool will brave through the Outside these days. Only the dying will ever know the feel of wind cutting their cheeks, of snow swallowing up their feet.

The man is neither.

He glides through the snow on a snowboard he made years ago. At the foot of the hill lies a platform, right next to the never-ending railway. He steps onto the platform and walks gingerly, avoiding the patches of ice. There are statues of men and women who couldn’t make it onto the train, who had been frozen alive. Years ago, when the world was still new to him, when the loneliness and despair became too much, he melted the ice encasing a teenaged girl, hoping against hope that she would still be alive. There are stories of people reviving after being frozen, and he clung to the possibilities of having a companion, even a friend.

Afterwards, it took him less than five minutes to bury the girl, but more than five years to bury the memories of her.

At the end of the platform is a hatch. He pulls open the heavy door and ducks in, closing it behind him. Darkness. He finds the matchbox in his pocket but decides against lighting one up. He doesn’t really need his vision. Fifty steps. Eight inches each. Avoid the twenty-fourth step. He can navigate through the station in his sleep.

For the next minute, he can only hear his own footsteps and breathing. Then he pushes open the door at the end of the stairs and out comes a ray of blue light. He blinks, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

At the center of the room is a pool of glowing blue liquid, illuminating the whole room. He had tried and succeeded in wiring electronics to the pool. The mysterious liquid acts as an energy source that never runs out. He was cautious at first, testing only small things like watches for a short period of time. Then he started using bigger appliances such as heaters and boilers. The liquid never decreased in volume and its glow never dimed.

He pulls off his goggles, his scarves, and then his coat. The room is far from cozy, but it’s warm enough to melt the bone-deep coldness in his body. He drops his backpack onto the floor and spills everything out - electronic parts he savaged from machines in an abandoned factory, canned food he found in deserted houses, clothes, books, tools, and -

A radio.

He looks up at the map on the wall. One month until the train passes this station. Four weeks, and he’ll see his sister again.

He allows himself a smile.

* * *

Central STAR, February 22nd, 2035

Carriage 4

“Cisco, is this really necessary?”

“Yes, Barry, it absolutely is. Now quiet.”

Barry trails after his friend. Breaking the curfew isn’t his favorite thing to do, but Cisco had been sneaking out of their shared room for weeks and is finally coming clean. He pulls Cisco back when he hears footsteps and they wait until the guard leaves.

At the end of the isle is the door to the storage room. It’s locked, but Cisco has somehow procured a key card. Cisco ushers him in before closing the door behind him. Barry looks around the room and blinks. It’s… not what he expected.

The whole room is filled with monitors and machines and lined with wires. Everything is coated in a thick layer of dust. He wonders why Wells lied to them about what this room is. It doesn’t seem like anyone other than Cisco has come in over the past few years. 

“This is not a storage room.”

“Nope.” Cisco pulls off a piece of black cloth and reveals the control panel underneath. The screen on the wall lights up when he puts his hand on the panel. “Check this out.”

He pushes a button, then there’s a series of beeping sound. On the screen a window pops up with a line of dots and dashes. Morse code.

... .--. .-. .. -. --. / .. ... / -.-. --- -- .. -. --.

Barry frowns. “Spring is coming?”

“Yeah. Wonder if they mean it in the literal sense. This could be huge.” Cisco leans in and starts typing away. ”The signal has been repeating for days. I’ve been trying to pinpoint the source.”

“You can do that?”

Cisco shrugs. “Hypothetically, yes. You in?”

Barry purses his lips. He has his dad to think of, but Cisco’s right. This can be important. It’s been twenty-one years since the Big Freeze. Barry has seen signs of the world getting warmer - ruins and wreckages seeing light again, faint footprints left by animals, frozen water under branches and roofs. Cisco is one of the few people who takes him seriously. Whether the message is true or not, it can be coming from someone out there, someone who manages to survive in the harsh weather.

“Yeah.” Barry leans over the panel. “Where do we start?”

* * *

Carriage 23

She stands in the small space between the carriages and looks out of the open window, leaning against the wall. Technically they’re not supposed to mess with any part of the train, but she can give two fucks about the rules. It’s snowing outside, as it always is. Miles and miles of endless white, lifeless, and cruel. She hates the stillness of the Outside. She hates how it never changes.

“Lisa.”

Lisa tilts her head sideway. “Mick.”

Mick looks over her shoulders. He doesn’t need to ask why she’s here; he knows the answer all too clearly.

Sometimes, she dreams about her brother being alive, struggling to survive when the whole world is against him. Sometimes, she dreams about him being dead, lying frozen and alone under layers and layers of snow. She isn’t sure which is the nightmare and which is the comfort.

“How’s Hart?” she asks. “He awake?”

“And pissing everyone off.”

“The usual then.” Lisa snorts. “Shawna did well. She can be useful.”

“Patching people up after an accident is one thing. During a fight?”

“She’s tough. You saw her hands when she was stitching up Hart’s wound? Rock steady.” Lisa kicks the door open and walks down the aisle. A few people stop what they’re doing to greet her. She acknowledges them with a nod. “I’ll tell Iris to give her a few pointers.”

Mick raises an eyebrow. “Those two together?“

“Spells trouble, yeah?” Lisa shoots him a grin. “They’ve been getting on pretty well. I look forward to what havoc they can wreck together - Oh, hey, Joe.”

“Your boy wants to talk to you,” Joe says with a sigh. “He said it’s important. Told him you would be on your way anyway, but you know him.”

“All too well, I’m afraid."

They walk toward the next carriage. Joe has a hand over the gun holster attached to his belt - a habit from his days as a guard from the front. Lisa has doubts about how he’ll react if he’s faced with his once colleagues, but she knows without a doubt that Joe West will do anything for his family, and that they have become his family.

Carriage 24 used to be only a simple living quarter, but they’ve turned it into a small clinic. They don’t have much. There are only a desk, a few beds, a couple of chairs, and the most basic of medical equipments. Before the whole fiasco ten years ago, Henry Allen had been coming here regularly to treat those in needs. He was, and still is the only experienced doctor they’ve ever had. Joe managed to at least rescue Henry’s notes on the patients he’s treated. The notes have been a great help in the coming years for the less experienced physicians and caretakers.

The only patient in the room is Hartley, their resident genius and troublemaker. Shawna’s checking the wound on the side of his torso while Iris distracts Hartley by engaging him in what seems like a heated debate. They had found it funny when they first realized that Hartley was absolutely terrified of anything related to doctors, but they knew it was no laughing business the moment Hartley begged Shawna to please stop treating his wound.

Hartley never asks for anything or any help from anyone, let alone beg.

Lisa approaches them. Now she can hear what Iris and Hartley are arguing about - mint ice-cream. Hartley’s adamant that mint ice-cream is an abomination and tastes like frozen toothpaste while Iris insists it’s a gift from the god and tastes like happiness, whatever happiness should taste like. Lisa chuckles, shaking her head. “And here I thought you were debating the merit of capitalism.”

Iris looks up at her and gives her a bright smile. “Ice cream flavor is a serious business, Lise.”

“We have a heretic among us.” Hartley sighs. “Mint? It’s blasphemy.”

“I’m more of a vanilla person myself.” Lisa laughs at the twin indignant looks she gets in response. “As much as I’d like to defend my choice, what do you want to talk to me about, Hart?”

Hartley sits up. “You remember I was trying to tap into STAR’s system?” Lisa nods. Hartley continues, “I found a weakness. An old network. It’s connected to a communication center no one was using. But a few days ago the system went back online. About five minutes ago, I managed to get into the network. They’ve been trying to track a signal from the Outside.”

Lisa freezes. She tries to tempt down the flare of hope in her chest, but she can’t. Logically she knows the possibilities of her brother being alive is slim, but emotionally, she can’t help but think if anyone could, it’d be Lenny.

“What - ” She clears her throat. “What’s the message?”

“‘Spring is coming.’ Then the message changes.” Hartley smiles. A rare one that’s free of sarcasm. “If you strike me down, I - ”

“ - shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.” Lisa breaks into a wide grin. Her dear brother, her cheeky nerd of a brother and his odd sense of humor - A hand finds her shoulder and she looks up to see Mick mirroring her grin. Alive. Their brother, their best friend is alive. And he’s coming back for them.

“Hartley, can you figure out who’s trying to track the signal and what their intention is?”

“Give me three days.”

“Joe, make sure we have enough weapons and medical supplies.”

Joe nods.

“Shawna, I won’t force you to fight with us, but if you want to, Iris can teach you how.”

Shawna exchanges a smile with Iris. “Oh, I’d love to.”

“Mick and I will start testing the water. Remember, don’t react to whatever they do to us. We can take it. We know what we’re doing.”

She knows no one likes the idea of standing by while they’re being hurt, but they’ve talked about this. It’s better this way.

“And someone tells Harry it’s time for him to take advantage of his face. Where is he anyway?”

“Well,” Iris says with an eye-roll, “he’s - ”

The roof hatch suddenly creaks open and a man drops down onto the floor. He pulls off the scarf around his face and takes off the thick black coat he’s wearing.

“- up on the roof.”

Lisa huffs out a laugh. “Found anything, doctor?”

“More of a confirmation.” Harry wipes off the snow on his head. “Spring  _ is _ coming.”

“Good. You gonna help Hartley with his job?”

He shrugs.

Lisa looks around the room and smiles. They’ve been planning and preparing for years. Smuggling weapons from the front, scraping parts from broken machines, finding people who are sympathetic to their cause. They still have a lot to do, but when the time comes - when Lenny’s back - they’ll be ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is probably doomed to get out of my control the moment I decided to split it into three POVs. It's impossible not to make the story bigger and obsess over all the back stories.


	2. Chapter 2

Central STAR, July 2nd, 2025

The shock of cold air cut into his back, relentlessly slashing his skin. An angry growl from his one and only friend. A cry of despair from his one and only sister. Len looked at Mick in the eyes and mouthed  _ take care of her _ . Then he looked over to Lisa with a smile. He probably shouldn’t be feeling so calm, but it was a good enough outcome. His life for his sister living free of their monster. It wasn’t a bad way to go.

“I love you, sis,” Len said. They didn’t do this. They didn’t say I love you or thank you or sorry. They fought side by side and back to back and held each other when it hurt too much to even breathe. It had always been difficult for them to say what really mattered, but the words came easily to him now.

The guards pushed him toward the edge of the door. The wind and the engine were deafening in his ears. It felt like his face was going to be frozen solid, but he never looked away from his family. Even when he was inches away from his own death. Even when the guards’ fingers bit into his arms. Even when he only had one foot on solid ground.

The guards pushed, and he fell.

Train Station, February 24th, 2035

Len jerks awake.

It feels like he’s still in free fall. He takes a moment to breathe until his body settles. It’s not the first time he dreams of that day, and he’s never considered that particular dream a nightmare, but falling 10 miles into a pile of snow isn’t a feeling one gets used to.

‘ - you - hear - ‘ The radio crackles. He jumps to his feet and kneels down near the energy pool. It’s hard to hear through all the noises, but he can make out the voice of a man. ‘ - this working? Cis - adjust - ’

The sound clears up. Then the man speaks again, ‘Hello, you there? We got your messages.’

Young. Hesitant. Len wonders whose side they are on.

.-- .... --- / .- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- ..--..

‘Man, do you really have to keep on using morse code?’ Another voice says. ‘It’s cool the first few times, but it kinda gets old after a while, you know?’

‘Don’t be a dick. Maybe he can’t speak.’

‘Oh, right. Hey, can you speak? Is your vocal cord intact? Your hearing?’

‘Cisco!’

‘Hey! We agreed not to use our real names until we know who he is!’

‘Then stop being insensitive!’

Len laughs.

It sounds so foreign to his ear, like something that only exists in his mind. It’s been many years since the last time he makes a sound, let alone a laugh.

He shakes his head. They have to be from the front. No back dwellers can be this unguarded.

’See? He’s perfectly fine.  _ He’s _ the one who’s being an asshole.’

‘Oh my god, he’s been out there alone for maybe years, Cisco, years. Give me that.’ There are a few seconds of silence, then not-Cisco says, ‘I’m Barry. Are you okay? Are you safe?’

Barry.

It’s not that common a name, is it? How many young man named Barry can there be on Central?

“As safe as one can be in this world.”

‘How long have you been out there?’

That’s a good question. Len counted the hours when he was first thrown out, then he counted the days, the seasons, the years. But he’s lost counting a long time ago. All he knows is how many days it’s been since the last time Central STAR passed this station, and how many more until its next arrival.

“Date and year?”

‘Um, you mean now? Let me check… February 24th, 2035.’

Len slowly lets out a breath. He’s turning 33 then. Funny how he feels like his time has been frozen, but at the same time like a lifetime has passed. He feels both too old and too young in his skin.

“Almost 10 years.”

’Fuck. That’s - I can’t imagine what it must be like. Is there something we can do for you? Something you’d like to know?’

‘Barry! We still don’t know who he is and why he’s out there! He can be a serial killer!’

Len snorts. “Killer? Yes. Serial? Not so much.”

‘See? There’s a reason he’s thrown out.’

’You don’t know that! They’ve been - they killed so many people, Cisco. This system is not right. You know that.’

‘I know, Barry. I know.’

Interesting. It’s rare for front dwellers to question the status quo. Wells’s been relentless in his brainwashing. Most front dwellers think of Wells as their savior, and Central the Ark, oblivious to what’s been happening in the back. Guards are the only ones who have seen the reality with their own eyes, but they are either too afraid of Wells, or are power-hungry themselves. Joe West and Henry Allen have been the rare exceptions.

Henry called his son Barry.

‘Could you… tell us? What happened? Who you are?’

Len hums. “Someone was hurting my family. I got in a fight with him and ended up killing him.”

‘Oh. In self-defense?’

“It started as that.”

‘But - they don’t normally care about killing that much.’

Len lets out a humorless laugh. That’s one way of putting it. “They didn’t. The man told them I was planning an uprising before he died.“

A pause. ’Were you?’

“Yes.”

The other end of the line falls silent. Len waits. He’s gotten very good at waiting. For the storm to stop. For the sun to rise. For the train to pass by.

‘Do you want to know how your family’s been doing?’ Barry asks, his voice gentle. ’There’s someone I can ask. He’s trustworthy.’

Len swallows down the urge to say yes. He’s been waiting for years. He can wait another four weeks. “No, I don’t want to draw attention to them. And no offense, but I still don’t know how much I can trust you and your friend.”

‘That’s fair.’

For a moment none of them say anything. Then Len breaks the silence. “What’s ‘Barry’ short for?”

‘Um, why?’

“Bartholomew?”

‘I - you - how did you - ’

“Dr. Allen is a friend,” Len cuts in. ”He used to come to the back to help us. A lot of us would have died if not for him.”

‘He - he’s my dad,’ Barry croaks. 'Do you know - He's a good man, right?’

There’s such pain and desperation in his voice Len almost regrets bringing this up. How long has he been told that his father murdered his mother? How long has he been clinging to the hope that his father’s innocent?

“He’s too good a man to survive in this world.” Len remembers the day Henry was arrested. Wells had come to the back to give them the news like the bastard he was. No one, absolutely no one, believed the doctor was guilty. Joe, after he’d been kicked out of the front, only confirmed it.

”He was framed.”

Barry lets out a sound so broken it hurts to even listen to.

‘Jesus, Barry, breathe,’ Cisco says. ‘Listen, I don’t know who you are, but I swear to god, if you’re fucking with him - ’

“I’m not.”

‘You better not be - Barry! Come on, buddy, you need to breathe. Here, sit down. I’ll get you a - ’

‘I’m - fine, Cisco.’

‘Yeah, no. You look terrible. Do you need a hug? I can give you a hug.’

‘I never say no to hugs.’ Barry chuckles tiredly. ‘God, sorry about that. Thank you for telling me.’

“How’s he?”

‘Under house arrest. Treating only patients Wells sends his way.’ Barry’s voice breaks a little. ’Seeing his own son losing faith in him.’

But alive and kept at the front. He’s too valuable to get rid of. “You have to keep what I told you to yourself, Barry. I’ll break him out myself.”

‘… you what? Are you - Shit. We’ve got to go. We’ll try to get in touch as soon as possible. Good night!’

The signal’s cut. Then there’s only white noise coming from the radio. Len sits down on the sleeping bag and slowly breathes out.

He keeps the radio on.

* * *

Central STAR, February 25th, 2035

Carriage 2

His dad’s face lights up as soon as Barry walks in. Eddie steps back and closes the door, giving them at least the pretense of some privacy. Barry knows there are security cameras in this carriage, recording everything 24 hours every day. When he first found out with the scanner Cisco made, he was appalled, and tempted to confront Wells about it, but by then he’d already learned to expect the worst from Wells. So he kept quiet and pretended to not know.

“Hey, dad.” He sits down on the bed, next to his dad. His dad gives him a tentative smile and Barry's heart breaks. What he wouldn't give to unsay what he'd hurled at his dad in frustration. What he wouldn't give to unmake the hurt he'd inflicted on him. “I’m sorry,” he croaks. “So sorry.”

His dad puts an arm around his shoulders. “It’s okay. I understand.”

Barry shakes his head. It’s not okay. It’s far from okay. He hugs his dad and buries his face into his neck. Warm callused hands hold him closer, soothing over his back, the nape of his neck. “I love you,” Barry whispers. “I should have never doubted you.”

“I don’t blame you for being human, son. It is hard to hope when the whole world is telling you not to.” His dad’s voice is gentle. Always gentle. “It’s okay to falter sometimes. It’s okay to go at your own pace.”

Barry feels his eyes sting. He closes them and lets out a long breath. “Remember before? When the Big Freeze first happened. When no one knew yet how serious it was. We packed and planned and learned codes like it was all a big game. It’s weird how that’s one of the happiest memory I’ve ever had.” Barry taps three of his fingers on his dad’s upper arm twice. It’s their code for getting the other’s attention. His dad tenses up a little and taps back an affirmation.

_ Spring is coming _ , Barry taps.  _ Your friend from outside is alive. _

“I remember,” his dad says, his voice thick with emotion. “Your mom always got so excited about anything even remotely related to math or science.” His dad moves a hand to his knee.  _ I never thought it was possible. _

_ Me neither. He said he was coming to get you out. _

His dad huffs out a soundless laugh.  _ Then he will _ . Barry pulls away a little to look at his dad. His dad smiles in response.  _ He’s stubborn like that. _

They talk about his dad’s patients - all residents at the front, most of them healthier than the healthiest back-dweller. They talk about Barry’s students - all front-dwellers as well. Barry tries so hard to keep all the propaganda out of his classes, but there is always someone watching, waiting for him to make a wrong move.

Eventually Eddie knocks on the door to let them know that their time is up. Barry gives his dad another hug before leaving the carriage.

“You seem better,” Eddie says carefully once the door is locked behind them. Barry hates this part of visiting his dad - leaving his dad behind in a monitored room like a lab rat, knowing it would be another week before he can see his dad again. On the good days, having Eddie here makes it a little better. Even though he doesn’t really see the ugly truth of Central yet, even though he doesn’t believe in Henry’s innocence, he’s at least much more sympathetic than a lot of other guards.

On the bad days, Barry can be spiteful and perhaps a little cruel; the last couple of weeks had been nothing but bad days.

“Sorry for yelling at you,” Barry says. Eddie shrugs and gives him a warm smile. Barry sometimes wonders if Wells puts Eddie on guard’s duty because he thinks it would make it harder for Barry to hate the system as a whole. If so, it’s a great miscalculation on Wells’s part. People like Eddie doing Wells’s bidding only makes Barry angrier. They are good people, kind people. Blinded by the illusion Wells carefully built, made invulnerable through threats and manipulation. Fathers used against sons used against friends and lovers. Only the most alone and isolated might remain untouched.

“Good night, Barry.” Eddie opens the door to the next carriage for him and steps aside. “Tell me if you need anything, yeah?”

“Thanks, Eddie.” Barry smiles. “Get some rest.”

Barry finds the door to Cisco’s and his room and knocks. They never leave their door unlocked even when one of them is inside. There are no cameras or bugs inside residents’ rooms, at least at the front there aren’t. Barry supposes even Wells don’t want to risk the wraith of his most avid supporters.

“Hey, Barry. How’s your meeting?” Cisco locks up the door again right after Barry ducks into the room. Barry flops down onto his bed and watches Cisco sit back down on the floor and fiddle with electronic parts. It still boggles his mind sometimes how Cisco has taught himself all this.

“My dad trusts him.”

Cisco looks up at him. “No offense, but trusting the wrong people kinda run in your family.”

Barry snorts. Truer words have never been said. “This seems different, though. He doesn’t just trust him. He has faith in him.”

“Well.” Cisco opens the makeshift laptop he assembled years ago and plugs it into - a router? A dystopian version of one, with a lot of sharp edges and odd angles. Barry thinks some of the parts are actually made from utensils. “Let’s hope that faith is warranted.”

Barry hums. ”What does that do?”

“Save us the trip to the communication room. I just have to - ” Cisco picks up the router thing and starts walking around in the room. Suddenly the laptop gives out a loud beep. “Yes!” He puts the router down and grabs the laptop. Barry gets out of the bed to join him on the floor, staring at the screen. The familiar interface of the communication console pops up. “Whoa, someone’s trying to hack me. Rude. This isn’t how you greet people.”

“Hack you?” Barry scoots closer. He can’t really make sense of the codes on the screen, but his eyes follow the lines anyway. ”Have we been discovered by Wells?”

“No. Wells doesn’t have people this good. Even if he does, he’d keep quiet about it and strike when we least expect, not outright hack me - " Cisco scoffs. "Seriously? This isn’t a Hollywood hacker movie. Who does this? Who - ” The screen goes blank, then an illustrated mouse appears at the center of the screen.

Barry stops breathing.

“Holy shit he’s - he’s still - ” Cisco’s voice breaks a little. Barry gives his shoulder a squeeze. “Fucking asshole. Now he decides to show up?”

_ Hello, Cisco. _ A text bubble pops up over the mouse's head.

_ You could have messaged me like a normal person. _

_ Well, where's the fun in that? Besides, I need to make sure your laptop is clean. _

_ Hey, I may not be as good at hacking as you do, but I know my stuff. _

_ Sure you do. I see you've talked to an old friend of my friends. _

_ Friends? _

_ I don't know him personally, but he's important to people back here. I believe he's coming back? _

_ Seems so. Said he's gonna break Barry's dad out. _

_ And where do you two stand on this? You for us, or against us? _

Cisco turns to give Barry an exasperated look. Barry chuckles.

_ Stop being a drama queen, Rathaway. You know where we stand. _

_ Hm, can never be more careful. Anyhow, our fearless leader is very interested in what you two can offer us. If you really want to help, give us a list of the current guards, their post, and their shift. _

_ We'll try. _

_ Alright. You know how to find me. _

_ Wait, Hart. _

_ Yes? _

Cisco purses his lips. Barry puts a hand on his back. There's a slight tremor to his fingers when he starts typing again.

_ How have you been? _

It takes a few seconds for Hartley to reply.  _ Well, the food is terrible. I haven't showered in weeks. Most of the guards are sadistic assholes. But all in all I'm good. _

_ Safe? _

_ You're no safer than I am, Cisco. I have a family here. Real family. _

_ Good. _ Cisco pauses.  _ That's good. _

_ Stop being all apologetic and timid, Ramon. It doesn't suit you. _

Cisco smiles.  _ Dick. Don't die before I have the chance to annoy you to death. _

_ Keep your ass safe until I have the chance to kick it. So long, Cisco. I don't have the luxury of limitless power here. _

_ I'll see you soon, Hartley. _

The mouse waves before disappearing. Barry turns around to look at Cisco.

"Do you think we should - I don't know, tell Caitlin? I mean, she'll be glad to know that Hartley is alive and living."

"Yeah. But I'm not sure how much we should tell her. Hartley must have been laying low, or Captain Singh would have told us he's fine."

Barry sighs. "I just hope things aren't so complicated, you know? I hope we can just tell her everything. Let Eddie see the truth. Have Captain Singh openly defy Wells."

Cisco gives him a wry smile. "If only we care about no one but ourselves."

"Yeah." Barry lies down on the floor. "But then we'd have joined Wells."

There's no winning here, Barry thinks. He's tried to imagined a scenario in which they're victorious, but he can't imagine one without losing someone he loves. He wonders if Hartley knows about the real situation here, and if he still cares.

He wonders if the man Outside knows, and what exactly is his plan.

"Cisco."

"Yeah?"

"We have to deal with the bombs."

Cisco lies down next to him and bumps his fist against Barry's shoulder.

"We'll figure something out."

* * *

Central STAR, February 26th, 2035

Carriage 24

Hartley is humming. A song that sounds as cheery as he looks today.

"You're... unusually cheerful." Lisa sits down on one of the empty beds. Hartley gives her a lopsided smile.

"Talked to the people who've been chatting with your brother. They're alright. One of them is Henry Allen's son."

So that's the Bartholomew she'd heard so much about before Henry was arrested. She still don't get why Henry would torture his son with a name like that. "You knew them from before, I assume."

Hartley nods. "They're the only people who'd tried to keep me from being thrown out. Cisco, the other guy, even tried to hide me in their closet." Hartley chuckles. "I know. The irony wasn't lost on me."

Lisa snorts. "I like them already."

Hartley doesn't talk much about his life before he came to the back, unless it might harm or help their goals. Lisa knows his parents are one of the most privileged passengers on board, and that they are assholes who couldn't come to terms with their son's sexuality and disowned him for it. Other than that, though, she doesn't know much.

"So, they'll help us?"

"There are already records on what Eobard's men have been doing. Also, blueprints of Central. The engine room one is incomplete, probably more guess work than actual observation, but it'll still be helpful."

Lisa arches an eyebrow. "You hacked into his computer."

Hartley shrugs. "I found out who and how he was before doing anything obvious. I didn't risk anything."

"You hacked into your friend's computer even when you could have simply asked him what you wanted to know."

"So?"

Lisa breaks into a grin. "Never change, Hart."

Hartley smirks. "Why would I?"

She shakes her head. "I have to get to work. You tell me if there's anything new?"

"Sure thing."

Carriage 20

When she gets to the factory, it's already packed with people. Iris is helping Shawna move a pot of fat - she doesn't like to think about where the fat comes from. It makes her nauseous - and Joe's watching over the hydrolizer. Near the machine kneels Mick, who's discretely sneaking glycerin into a thermos.

Well, more or less discretely. Mick isn't really made for subtlety, but most guards are spectacularly dense.

"Snart! What took you so long?" One of the guards shouts. He's a mountain of a man, more brawn than brains. So much of him is made of muscles Lisa wonders where the rest goes.

He won't make a very good soap.

"Taking a dump, officer. Things don't go smoothly when you don't give us veggies."

The guard scrunches up his face in disgust. Lisa smirks. They are too easy sometimes.

"Get back to work!"

Lisa goes to the end of the production line and takes the filled mold. "Way ahead of you, officer." She brings the mold to the other side of the room and puts it on the rack to cool off. There used to be a special freezer here, but they sabotaged it for parts Hartley needed a few years ago. Eobard never replaced it. Soap is not really a priority at the end of the world. Who'd have guessed?

Still, she wouldn’t mind having a few more bars of soap at the back. Maybe she'll try to smuggle a few.

"How's your stomachache, Mick?"

Mick gives her a look. "Fine. How's the headache?"

"Better than I expected. It's starting to feel like an old friend, actually. My trusted company. Reminds me that I still have a head to feel hurt."

Mick snorts. "I know - "

"Cut the chatter!" The huge guard yells, waving his gun at them. Amateur.

"But it's boring, officer." Lisa pouts. "I'm liable to fall asleep when I'm bored. You don't want that, do you?"

"Shut up!" The guard takes three big strides and pulls her in by her collars. From the corners of her eyes she can see the other two guards looking at them with disinterest. The taller one looks more annoyed than anything. "You scums don't get to demand anything, you hear me? You do your work and keep your mouth shut."

Lisa smiles. "Or what? You'll make me?"

It's embarrassingly easy to dodge the blow, but Lisa lets it connect with her cheek, going with the force to minimize the damage. "If you want to shut me up you should aim for - "

The guard goes for another punch. Mick beats him to it and knocks his fist aside. The guard growls and raises his gun, but his grip is wrong and Mick easily twists it out of his hand, pointing it at the guard's forehead.

"Drop it!" One of the other two guards shouts. They both have their guns trained on Mick, deeming him the only threat in this room. Now this will make things easier. Lisa loves it when people underestimate her. "I said drop it!"

Mick puts his hands up in surrender and drops the gun onto the floor. The huge guard picks it up and uses it to hit Mick on the head. Lisa lunges at him, but the taller one comes up to her and twists her arms behind her back. Lisa tests his grip. She should be able to break it when she needs to.

Another kick to the ribs. Mick only grunts. The shorter guard pulls the huge guard away before he can do any more damage. "Enough! Our workforce is small enough as it is. Mr. Wells won't be happy if you do any permanent damage."

The huge guard spits on Mick's face before going back to his post. Lisa helps him up and shares a smile with him.

Two is good. Two keeps them safe. Two means they can be used against each other, but aren't enough to pose a threat.

They haven't been an army of two for a very long time, but the guards don't know that.

They are a legion.

The rest of their work time is spent in relative peace. Mick grunts his way through the labor, using his injury as an excuse to lean on Lisa, covering her sleights of hands with his body. Iris and Shawna both limit their concerned glances down to one each. Joe is outright staring at the guards, but Lisa doesn't stop him; he has a reason to do so. The guards will make their own assumptions.

As soon as they're back to their living quarters, Iris and Shawna are all over them. Shawna starts stripping Mick's clothes while Iris checks the bruises on Lisa's cheek and arms. Joe keeps glaring at the closed door as if he can kill the guards with his eyes.

"I'm fine, Iris. He can't throw a punch for shit." She looks around the room. A few other people are looking at them in concern as she and Mick are being dragged toward the clinic. Lisa waves at them and grins. "Seriously, it's no big deal."

"You aren't the doctor here," Shawna says. "You ain't fine until I say so."

"Feisty." Lisa leers at her. She rolls her eyes and flips her the bird.

Hartley's eyebrows jump up as soon as he sees them. Harry's again nowhere to be seen.

"Got something?"

"We have one hot-headed idiot and two relatively competent but still not very observant guards." Lisa winces a little when Iris presses an ice pack against her cheek. "They have orders not to kill us unless we give them a very good reason."

"Stuff you asked for." Mick takes two bottles out of his over-sized jacket. Lisa throws three bars of soap onto the bed and says, "And you get one of these so you can stop bitching about smelling like garbage."

"We smell like rotting corpse, Lisa. Garbage I can handle." He grabs the bottle and puts them under the bed. "So, our little friends from the front just sent me the lists of guards posted at the first fifteen carriages, including their background and shifts. That's better than I expected. Not sure what they did to get the information, but they got it."

"Friends from the front?" Joe asks. He's still alternating between frowning at the bruise on Lisa's cheek and scowling at the lump on Mick's head.

"Barry and Cisco. Old friends of mine.”

Joe snaps his head up at the mention of their names. "They're - this is too - "

"Dangerous?" Lisa says. "We're all in danger, Joe. They won't be any safer even if they do nothing. You know how Eobard is."

"I know, but - "

"Joe." She gives his arm a squeeze. "We take care of our own; you know that. I don't want to risk anyone if it's at all possible, but we need all the help we can get."

Joe sighs. "You know, it irritates me sometimes how you are always the sensible one."

Lisa chuckles. "That I get from Lenny."

"Yeah," Joe says with a small smile. "That you do."

Iris drags Shawna off after that, but not before threatening to personally sit on Mick if he so much as sits up. Lisa cackles when Mick grunts his protest, but then Shawna gives her a pointed look and tells her to get some rest unless she wants to be tied to the bed. That, coupled with Joe's concerned eyebrows and Iris's puppy eyes made it impossible for her to fight.

She can't stop smiling, though.

"You're getting all mushy inside now, aren't you?" Hartley says, but his eyes are soft. "It's okay. Mick's also a closet marshmallow."

Lisa kicks at his calf, laughing. "You are one to talk, Rathaway."

She knows they still have a lot of problems ahead of them. For the first time in years, however, she feels peaceful. She's not naive enough to believe that they will absolutely succeed, but they have a fighting chance, and the people around her are the best she could ever ask for.

"We did good, yeah?" She turns to Mick. "Lenny will be proud."

"Yeah." Mick looks out of the window. "He will."


	3. Chapter 3

Central STAR, May 3rd, 2016

Len shoved the man who had no right to be called a father into the room and slammed the door shut. Lisa was crying. There was a large gash under her collarbone. Len led her toward the last carriage, trying his best to push down the panic welling up in his chest.

It was midnight. Most had gone to sleep already. Lisa tried to muffle her cries, but some still stirred when they walked past them. Many looked away. It wasn't the first time this had happened, but Lewis was a guard, and a guard - well, a guard could get away with almost anything.

There wasn't anyone in the last carriage. Len retrieved the first aid kit from the cabinet and sat Lisa down on a chair. He didn't know exactly what he was doing, but he had to do something. Stop the bleeding, clean the wound - did she need stitches? The thought of using a needle on his sister made him sick. He pressed a piece of clean gauze against the wound and let out a long breath.

"Jesus, what's happening here? Joe, flashlight."

Len grabbed a pair of scissors and whirled around, pointing it at the strangers. There were two men. The one holding a flashlight was in guard's uniform with a hand resting on his gun holster. The other one put his hands up and gave him a smile. Len shifted, blocking Lisa from their view, and pointed the scissors at the unarmed man.

"Easy there, kid. We're not here to hurt you."

Len didn't budge. The unarmed man must be a front-dweller. His clothes were too clean to be from anywhere else.

"She's hurt. I can help her. I'm a doctor."

Len pursed his lips. He didn't want to risk Lisa not getting the proper treatment, but he also didn't want to risk Lisa getting hurt by strangers.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

The doctor thought for a few seconds. "I suppose you can put the scissors to my throat. Or Joe can lend you his gun."

"Henry!" The guard shouted. Len looked at the doctor in shock. Was he crazy?

"He's only trying to protect the girl, Joe. I'll help her and he won't hurt me." The doctor tilted his head up, baring his throat like some animal surrendering to another. "Come on, we're losing time here."

Len looked at him warily. Then he moved away from the bed to the doctor's side, holding the scissors against his neck. The doctor quickly started cleaning and dressing the wound. Len looked over his shoulders at Lisa.

Len hated that he couldn't protect her from this.

Even with a pair of scissors ready to slit his throat, the doctor's breathing was as steady as his hands. He never knew a man's hands to be gentle, but the doctor's were, carefully picking pieces of broken glass and wiping the blood away.

"Hey, what's your name?" The doctor asked, smiling at Lisa. Len nodded when Lisa looked at him in question.

"Lisa," she said with a small voice.

"Lisa. You've been very brave, but I need to do a few stitches. It'd sting a little. Can you be brave for a little longer?"

She shuddered, tears welling up in her eyes. Len tried to stand his ground, but he couldn’t. He dropped the scissors and went to her side, kneeling down. He wished he was stronger. He wished he could do more.

"Lisa, just look at me, okay? You'll be alright. Trust me, yeah?" He held her hand in his and squeezed. "I'm here for you. Always."

Lisa buried her face in Len's neck, sniffing. Len cradled her head with the other hand and soothed his thumb over her damp cheek. "Ready, Lisa?"

Lisa pulled away and nodded.

"It won't be long. Promise." The doctor took out a needle. Lisa flinched at the sight and turned to look at Len. "How old are you?"

"Se - " The needle went in and Lisa tensed up. Len tightened his grip on her hand. "Seven."

"Oh, you're the same age as my boy. His name is Bartholomew, but we call him Barry."

Len huffs. What kind of name is Bartholomew? The doctor shoots him a brief smile then continues to close up Lisa's wound, keeping up the friendly chatter at the same time.  _ What's your favorite color? Gold? Oh, like your hair. It's very pretty, just like the sun. What do you like to do? Dancing? That's great! Barry loves singing and he has the voice of an angle, but he can't dance. That he got from me, I think. He's as bad as I am. _

In five minutes, this man has become closer to Lisa than Lewis had ever been.

"You're doing great. Almost over. Almost over." The doctor finished the last suture and cut the thread. Then he covered up the wound with practiced ease. Len let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"You okay?" Len asked. Lisa gave him a small smile. "Tired?" Lisa nodded. "I'll find you a sleeping bag. Stay here." He looked up at the doctor. "Thank you. I'll try to repay you in some way. I'm - Leonard, her brother."

"Leonard. I'm Henry." He pointed at the guard standing behind him. "This is my friend Joe. He isn't as scary as he looks."

Len walks to the cabinet by the wall and climbed onto a chair next to it. He remembered stashing a sleeping bag on top of the shelf - there. "You are from the front, and he's a guard. Why are you here?"

"To help."

Len can’t quite contain his scoff. "So you left the comfort of your clean suite for this shit hole because, what, you're a good man?"

He could feel both Henry and Joe watching him while he lay the sleeping bag on the floor, helping Lisa settle in. He dropped a dry kiss on her forehead and bid her goodnight, not wishing her sweet dreams but a dreamless sleep. It was the best they could hope for.

"Because I'm a doctor," Henry said. "I should have been doing this much earlier."

Len turned to look at them. Joe was frowning at Lisa's treated wound while Henry looked at Len with eyes filled with guilt and sorrow. It was so different from the disgust and indifference he was used to. He almost felt unbalanced, off-kilter.

"You plan on coming again?"

"Yes." Henry waved a hand at Lisa's direction. "I can't be here everyday, but I'll try as often as I can."

Len sat down next to Lisa. She mumbled something unintelligible and snuggled closer to him. He smiled a little. "Will it scar?"

"It might, unfortunately." Henry kneeled down to look at him. "You're hurt as well."

Len shook his head. "A few bruises. Nothing to worry about." Henry frowned and extended his hand, palm up.

"Can I see your left arm?"

Len hesitated for a moment. "Alright." He put his arm on Henry's hand. He knew what he would see. Bruises on the inner side of his wrist, cigarette burns on the back of his hand, scrapes along his lower arm. They didn't hurt, not anymore, but sometimes he could still feel the tight grip around his wrist and the panic stemmed from his helplessness.

He hated himself for letting it get to him.

"Leonard, is this - who's been hurting you and your sister?"

Len glanced at Joe. He wondered if it was possible for a guard to really care. Most guards he'd encountered were just like Lewis. At worst cruel and sadistic, at best cold and indifferent. "You can't do anything about it."

"We can try to - "

"No one will believe us over him. Even if they do, so what? Guards won't care. They've been doing much worse to people from the back." He lifts up his shirt to show them the bruises on his ribs. "I got away easy."

Joe's stoic face faltered. A vulnerable look broke through. That was a look Len knew well - He was no stranger to helplessness. It felt wrong to see it on someone wearing a uniform, but he supposed he'd been unfair to the man. It looked like he was the one who helped Henry sneak here.

"There must be something we can do," Henry said. "This can't go on. Even Wells can't ignore this if we - "

"Don't make it worse." Len sighed. "We all know there is only one way to change things here. That can't be rushed. You being here will be a great help. There are a lot of people in need of a real doctor."

Henry carefully put a hand on Len's shoulder, giving him enough time to step away if he wanted to. He forced himself to relax and allowed the touch.

"You are still so young."

Young. Len had stopped feeling like a child a long time ago. For as long as he remembered his life was always a war. This was only a different battle. Bigger than Lewis. Bigger than old bruises and cigarette burns. Once he’d hoped that the man would wake up someday, that he’d be horrified to see what he’d become, but some people, Len realized, were simply cruel. Evil couldn’t be reasoned with; it could only be torn down.

He wasn’t strong enough now, he knew that. His hands were barely wide enough to hold a gun properly. His arms were too weak to escape Lewis even in his drunken state. He was a fighter at heart but his body couldn’t keep up. Not yet, but it would be. He’d make sure of it.

"Here? You either grow up early or you die young." Len smoothed a hand over Lisa's hair. "This carriage is almost always empty. You can turn it into a clinic. Too many have died. Might as well put the space into good use."

Joe and Henry exchanged a look. Len left them to it, turning to Lisa, but keeping an eye on the door. Lewis should have passed out by now. He didn't look forward to seeing the man in the morning, but the train was only so big; there weren’t many places to hide here.

He wondered if he could do it. He wondered what it would feel like.

He closed his eyes and dreamed of seeing life bleeding out of the man who gave birth to them.

Train Station, March 1st, 2035

'Hey, hey! You okay?'

The urgent voice pulls Len out of his dream. He sits up and looks over at the radio. Barry.

"Yes." He grabbed the radio and lied back. It doesn't feel like he's been asleep for long. "I'm fine."

'You sounded like you were - I don't know, in pain or something.'

"Dreams."

'Nightmares?'

"Depend on how you see it." He can still feel the resistance of skin and muscles, of human body giving way to the sharp point of a toothbrush made sharper by him. Even Lewis's blood was warm, splattering onto his face, burning into his soul. Len had been shot in the stomach. Blood trickling down along his leg, bringing his consciousness with it. And the only thing he could think of was thank god Lisa wasn't here to witness this.

"The man I killed," he finds himself saying, because why not? It was a long, long time ago. And Barry will find out who he is sooner or later. "He was my father."

'Oh.'

"The scars he left on me and other people were more than the ones I left on him that day, but you could only kill someone so many times." He remembers collapsing onto the floor afterwards like a ragged doll. "I was shot. Henry was the one who saved me." It was nearly morning and Henry really should have left him, should have fled, but he stayed at Len's bedside and even kept Lewis alive for a while; that was just the kind of man Henry was. "That was how he got caught, saving a bad man and his bad son. His big bleeding heart would always get him in trouble. That time, it costed him his wife and his freedom."

For a moment none of them say anything. Len wonders what possessed him to say so much, but loneliness is a terrible force. He thought he'd grown out of it, but no one really can.

'I was sixteen when my mom died,' Barry said quietly. 'I was told that my dad did it, that the guard caught him red-handed.' He let out a long breath. 'I didn't believe them, of course. I protested and shouted and cried, but my dad just - took it. At first I thought it was the shock. Then I thought he was too devastated. There were all these people whispering 'Poor boy' and 'He must be guilty if he never defends himself.' And 'We knew there was something wrong with him.' I started to falter. I lost hope.' He let out a bitter laugh. 'Turns out I am his hostage and he mine. Not a word, or boom! Say goodbye to the only family you have.'

A bomb. Len feels his stomach drop. Lewis's sick, sick idea has become a reality. Not that Wells wouldn't have come to the same conclusion in time, but still - "Implanted?"

'Yeah, and it's not just a bomb you can take out with a little surgery. It's micro, and will explode immediately if it gets in contact with air.'

"You both have it?"

'Us and many others. Talk about living dangerously.'

Len swallowed. He could taste bile at the back of his throat. The cruelty of men never ceased to amaze him. He might actually be in the safest place in the world right now. Here, his only enemy is the weather and himself.

"You need something that can immediately pull out the bomb and disable it."

'Cisco's been working on something suction-based. Create a high pressure-imbalance and suck the bomb out into water. We have to come up with something, or your friends' plan will be all for nothing.' Barry laughs a little. 'God, that's depressing. Let's not talk about this at three in the morning. Deal?'

"Deal." Len sighs. "Did I wake you up?"

'Nah, I couldn't sleep, so I figured I could listen to what was going on at your end - that sounds creepy, doesn't it?'

"A little."

'I swear I just wanted to make sure you were alive and not frozen dead somewhere.'

"Whatever you say, Barry."

'Seriously. Cross my heart and hope to die.'

Len chuckles. "Please don't."

It's weird to not be alone after all these years of isolation. Len has forgotten how it felt like to just have someone with him - not physically, but still with him in some way.

'Hey, I just realized I don't even know your name. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but what do I call you?'

"Call me Len."

'Len. Your full name can't be worse than mine, can it?'

Len snorts. "You'd be surprised. And Henry's quite proud of your name, I think."

'Of course he is.' Barry's voice is filled with the same fondness Henry shows when he talked about his son. 'We should, um, probably get back to sleep. Sorry for listening in on you.'

"It's fine." Len can't help the flare of disappointment in his heart. He's had a lifetime of practice in being alone, but once he's had someone to talk to, it's hard to get back. "Hope you have better luck falling asleep now."

'Right. I, um - right.' He sounds hesitant, like he's swallowing down whatever he wants to say. 'I'll keep the headphones on, so feel free to talk to me if you can't get back to sleep.'

Has he been this obvious? Maybe he's breaking more than he thought he was. Maybe Barry's more observant than he assumed. "Thanks."

'I'll talk to you later, about - stuff that happens, is going to happen.'

Len laughs. "Looking forward to it."

It's surprisingly easy for him to fall back asleep, and this time, he doesn't dream.

* * *

Central STAR, March 1st, 2035

Carriage 6

"Barry, Barry!"

Barry wakes up to Eddie's face inches away from him and falls off his chairs. He looks around the classroom - class-carriage? Empty. The kids must have left when he was dozing off.

"Sorry, I didn't sleep well yesterday." He wipes at his face roughly. Technically he didn't fall asleep until five in the morning. "Um, why are you here?"

"Your dad finished early today. I thought I could check on you before going back to standing outside his door." Eddie breaks into a grin. "Then I saw you almost slamming your face into the desk. I was going to let you knock yourself awake, but then decided to save you from giving yourself a nosebleed."

"Thanks, my knight in shining armor." Barry grabs his backpack and gets to his feet. "So Caitlin's back in her room?"

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him. "Oh, is this why you haven't been sleeping well?"

Barry rolls his eyes. "I don't have a love life, Eddie. Just want to talk to her."

"You never know." Eddie turns off the desk lamp for him - How did he fall asleep with a lamp shining right into his face? "I think she's still finishing up in the clinic. You might catch her if you hurry."

"Thanks, Eddie." Barry rushes toward the door. "See you!"

"Give it a shot, Barry!"

Barry waves his hand without looking back. "We're just friends!"

Barry used to love the clinic. He'd go to the clinic and watch his dad at work, treating wounds, finding illnesses, saving lives. After his mom died and his dad was arrested, though, he avoided going to the clinic even in passing. Too much have been lost, and although memories are all he has, it still hurts to remember.

"Hello, Caitlin."

She's standing by the bookshelf reading a book. She whirls around when she hears him and holds the thick hardcover book out like a shield.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. It's been... a while."

"Yes." Caitlin lowers the book. "Why are you here?"

Barry sighs. He knows he's been a shitty friend. He knows he's been avoiding her. But it's hard to see her and not feel the urge to tell her everything.

"I'm sorry. I just want to check up on you. See how you're doing."

Caitlin puts the book back on the shelf. "Cisco can tell you that."

"Still want to see for myself, though."

"You see me." She crosses her arms. "I'm fine. You want anything else?"

"Caitlin - "

"You just stopped being my friend, Barry." She met his eyes, her stare as hard as steel. "At first, I thought you just needed some time to yourself. Then you started to actively avoid me. I wanted to be there for you, but you never let me." She walked past him, stalking over to the desk. "Hartley - that was hard on all of us. But then you ran away from me again, and even Cisco became distant for a while. He said you cared. He said it was just difficult for you. But I'm always here, Barry; you never cross the few carriages to come find me. When I went to you, you went the other direction."

Barry opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. What can he possibly say to fix this? He was the one who kept his distance. He was the one who ran.

"You can't just come back and act like my friend. It's been too long."

He closes his eyes and let's out a shuddering breath. He hopes he could tell her. It doesn't excuse his behavior, but he hopes he could make her understand. "I'm sorry."

"You had years, Barry, years." She turned her back on him. "I don't - " She sighs. "Sorry. It's been a long day."

"No, you're right. I screwed up." Barry walks up to her slowly, carefully. "How do I make this right? What do I do?"

"I don't know, Barry." She rubbed at her temple, her shoulders slump. "But you can start with not running away again."

"Okay." He leans on the desk, trailing a finger over the edge. "Okay."

Silent stretches. Caitlin grabs the pile of folders on the desk and starts putting them back to the file cabinet. Barry picks up the framed photo on the desk. It's the one that has always been here - his mom holding a baby Barry in her arms, smiling brightly at the camera. Listening to the rustling sound of paper sliding against paper, he can almost pretend that his mom were alive and his dad were still his own man.

"He misses her," Caitlin says. Barry looks up and sees a half-smile on her face. She goes on, "He misses you, too. He's always talking about you. About how good of a teacher you've become, how you visit him every week, how you've grown up into a good man."

She sighs. "I want to - apologize too. I'm sorry I didn't believe you. Your dad - he isn’t a killer.” Tentatively she puts a hand on his arm. "He's taught me a lot. He's helped me a lot."

Barry blinks back the tears threatening to fall and manages a quiet "Thank you." Caitlin gives him a small, comforting smile.

"It's not right that he's still locked up like that. He deserves better." She purses her lips. "Maybe I should - "

Barry pulls her into his arms, muffling her words. "Please don't talk to Wells about this,” he whispers. “Please don't."

"Barry - "

Barry shakes his head. "I know you don't think he's - like that, but just this once, please believe me." He tries his best to keep his voice low, murmuring into her neck. "Please be safe. Please." He knows he's trembling, but he can't lose her. Not again, not anyone.

"Okay, Barry, okay," she says, giving his shoulder a squeeze before stepping away. "You alright?"

Barry nods, wiping his face roughly.

“Come find me tomorrow, okay?” Her face shutters the further away she walks from Barry. He almost panics and begs her to stay, but he knows Caitlin wouldn’t give him an in if she didn’t mean it. “Take care of yourself, Barry.”

“You too.”

Caitlin gives him a brief smile before walking out of the carriage. Barry sits down at his dad’s desk.

Two more weeks.

* * *

Central STAR, March 2nd, 2035

Carriage 24

“You knew? You knew and you never - ”

“We can’t afford to - ”

Lisa opens the door just in time to see Hartley’s fist connecting with Harry’s face. Harry calmly walks over to the sink and rinses out the blood in his mouth. Hartley stares at him, his face flushed.

“Hart?” Lisa says. Hartley doesn’t respond, and he startles when Lisa grabs his hand to check his knuckles. These are going to bruise.

“They have bombs implanted in their heads,” Hartley says without preamble. Lisa’s momentarily confused, but then she catches on and she feels sick.

“How many?”

“Enough. The ones that matter.” Hartley takes a deep breath. “I will figure out a way to extract the bombs without compromising the plan. I’ll stop sleeping if I have to.” He shoots a glare at Harry. “You have proven yourself, doctor. You are Eobard’s brother after all.”

Hartley grabs his laptop and marches out. Lisa waits until he’s left before saying, “Care to explain?”

Harry shrugs nonchalantly, but his jawline is tensed. Hartley’s remark has hit a nerve. “We don’t need the distraction.”

“That’s not for you to decide. We’re in this together, Harry. Everything you do or not do will affect us.” Lisa gestures at the door. “I’m not naive enough to believe there won’t be casualties, but I’m with Hartley on this one.” Lisa catches his eyes. “We’re not abandoning our own without even trying.”

Harry scoffs. Hartley always says Harry has a face made for scoffing. Lisa thinks it's pot calling a kettle black, but that doesn't make it any less true. "You'll lose."

"If this is about winning I'd have blow the train up and be done with it." She walks to the end of the train and opens a window. One good thing about the weather? They always have a constant supply of ice packs. "If this is about winning you wouldn't still be here." Harry's just about to say something when Lisa throws an ice pack at him. He presses it against his cheek and looks away. "You aren’t putting revenge above lives; you are putting our lives above theirs."

Harry stares out of the window without a word. Sometimes Lisa misses the days when Harry would snap at anything that moved. He's grown quieter and quieter as time goes by. Broodier.

Sighing, she goes to stand next to him.

They do this, sometimes, silently looking at the Outside together, thinking about the family they've lost - Lisa thought she'd lost. Lisa can't imagine what it feels like to lose a daughter. She suspects Lewis probably wouldn't have even bat an eye had she died before he did. But she knows how she felt when Len was pushed out of the train.

Harry wasn't even conscious when his daughter was buried.

She remembers the day Harry broke down. He was drunk, incoherent, holding air in his trembling arms, telling her how he'd dug Jessie's body up because he couldn't - couldn't leave her without saying goodbye. He had to see her with his own eyes even if it killed him. And it did, in some way.

Lisa traces a finger along the windowsill. The coldness bites and makes her skin numb. She smirks when Harry grabs her hand and pushes it away from the window. "You can be a real asshole sometimes."

"I'm flattered," Harry says dryly.

"But," she wiggles her finger at him. "You're nothing like Eobard."

Harry throws her a brief glance. "We are more alike than you'd like to believe."

"Right." Lisa huffs. "He started the apocalypse. You made this train."

"We worked together on the energy source."

"He insisted on continuing with the testing. You tried to stop him."

Harry's shoulders tense up, his jaw clenched. "Only because - she was there."

"You care." Lisa leans against the wall, tilting her face sideway to look at him. "About us."

Harry sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Against my better judgement." He gives her a reluctant smile in response to her wide grin. "I'll tell him what I know about the implants."

Lisa nods. "Be prepared to duck."

Harry huffs. "Better to let the first one land or he'll find something heavier."

Not long after Harry walks out Hartley starts shouting again. There's a loud crash, then silence. Lisa spares the door a last glance before shrugging on a parka - Lenny's parka - and opening the hatch to the top of the carriage. The wind is cuttingly cold, but bearable.

She closes the hatch door behind her. The snow makes it hard for her to see beyond two carriages. She tests the surface of the train. It’s too cold to touch even with her gloves on. She crawls forward on knees and elbows.

Carriage 20. The guards are switching out the machines. They're starting a new job soon. Carriage 18. A guard sits on the floor with his face buried in his hands. Lisa tries to get his badge number, but the window is too foggy. Carriage 17. A large machine whirls, squashing something into paste. She squints. The brownish black cubes look familiar. She makes sure the carriage is clear before dangling herself from the top to get a better look.

She swallows down the taste of bile when she sees the endless stream of cockroaches pouring into the machine. This - this is -

This is what they've been eating.

She pulls herself back up and takes a long deep breath. She should have taken someone with her. Iris would have made a terrible joke by now. Shawna would probably punch something. Mick would grunt out protein is protein. Hartley would start ranting about evil scumbags and their lack of taste and creativity.

She wonders if Joe and Harry know about this, but it's something even she doesn’t see the point of telling.

She continues forward. Carriage 14. A seedy bar with crowds drunk on questionable drinks. Carriage 11. A theater with stilted actors and expressionless audiences. Carriage 10. A woman taking off her white coat and looking out of the window with eyes older than her age. Carriage 9. A clinic that looks remarkably like their own. Lisa's chest tightens. Henry's.

Hearing the creaking sound of a hatch that hasn't been opened in years, she curses and swings down to the space between carriage 7 and 6.

"Holy fuck it's cold," a voice says. A young man. "I mean, I appreciate that it's no longer cold enough to turn us into popsicles in seconds, but I'm losing feelings in my fingers. And face. And everything else."

"I thought we were supposed to - you know, be discreet?" another man says. "God, imagine being in this weather for ten years. And it was supposed to be even colder."

Lisa feels her eyebrows jump up. They have to be talking about Lenny. She looks over the edge. Two figures in ridiculous fur coats are helping each other onto the top of the carriage. She pulls herself up.

"Remind me why we're doing this again? My brain is frozen and I can't remember."

"You said, and I quote, ' _ Spring is coming? _ What is this? Game of Thrones the family friendly version? How friendly do you think the weather is right now? We have to test it. Hey, maybe the bomb will just lose its function if we stay outside long enough.'"

"You're supposed to stop me when I have bad ideas. I do that for you all the time."

"Yeah, well. I kinda - want to know what it feels like?"

"Dude."

Lisa makes her way to the two men huddling together and taps the one with the long hair on the shoulder. He whirls around and screams, losing his balance and falling backward. Lisa grabs the edge of the skylight and stops his fall with an arm around his waist.

"Holy crap warn a guy will you? Oh god what are you doing here? Who are you? Please tell me you're not working with Wells and aren't planning on killing us, which - you're probably not since you just saved me from falling to my death. And hey, you're really warm."

Lisa tries not to break into a smile. She really does. "I'm not going to kill you. You're - Cisco, yes?" She points at Barry. "And Barry?"

"Yeah, I mean, depends on who you are?" Cisco lets Lisa pulls him up and hugs his knees to his chest. There's a faint blush on his cheeks, hidden by his darker skin. "Thanks. Um, are you - friends with a certain annoying blond bespectacled man? Who's a genius but really shouldn't be reminded of that because his head is big enough as it is?"

Lisa chuckles. "Sounds familiar." She slowly curls and uncurls her left hand. It stings a little. "I heard you two tried to hide him in your closet."

They both laugh, then fall into silence, sharing a wistful smile. Barry looks up at her and asks, "Is he really okay?"

"He's fine, but worried." She points at her own temple. "He'd like to keep your heads where they are."

"Don't we all." Barry gestures at her left hand. "Your left hand has frost bite. From holding onto the train."

Lisa blinks in surprise. "Pretty minor. Don't worry about it." She pulls the parka a little tighter around herself. “The man Outside you’ve been talking to, how's he?"

There’s a moment of silence before Barry answers, ”Surprisingly calm and sane for someone who's been alone for almost a decade. Sometimes he has nightmares, but he's always unusually calm when he wakes up.”

Lisa snorts. “That’s the way he copes. Tell him his whole extended family are fine, will you? And we’ll kill him if he gets himself killed getting on the train.”

Barry gives her a knowing look before turning to Cisco. Cisco nods. “Sure, but why haven’t you talked to him yourself? If I can access the terminal remotely, Hartley can.”

Lisa shrugs. She wants to. Of course she does. But she’s not sure she can stop if she starts. “Our power supply is limited. We’re saving it for when he’s coming.” Barry smiles at her sympathetically. Lisa wonders if he figures out who she is already. Has Len talked to him about her? “By the way, thanks for the blueprints and the roster. Do be careful, okay?”

“Always,” Cisco says. It’s not very convincing considering how much noise they’ve made climbing out of their window. “You too. Thanks for saving me from falling to my death, not that it’s impossible to survive the fall.”

“Evidently.” Lisa looks back at where she came from. This has taken longer than she expected. There will be scolding and disapproving eyebrows when she goes back. “And Barry?” She pulls down her collar to reveal the scar under her collarbones. The ugly jagged cut is now only a faint pale line. “We’ll do everything we can to save Henry.”

Barry’s responding smile is both heart-warming and heart-breaking. Cisco puts an arm around him and waves her goodbye as she turns around, away from the comfortable cage Eobard’s built.


	4. Chapter 4

Train Station, March 5st, 2035

Len can practically hear Barry’s mind spinning.

‘It doesn’t run out?’

“It doesn’t run out.”

‘Like the train.’

“Yes.”

The blue liquid doesn’t feel like liquid. It’s more substantial than air, but much less substantial than water. It’s cool to the touch, but not in a solid way. An absence of heat rather than a cold substance.

‘So, both a power source and a weapon.’

“A freeze bomb, if you will.”

Len scoops some of the liquid up with a glass vial, carefully pouring it out until the vial is half full. The liquid is extremely volatile in small volume. He still has the scars to prove it. The drop of liquid exploded and countless tiny shards of ice buried into his palm. He’s lucky to still have his hand.

‘Huh, fancy.’ A moment of silence. ‘Wait, does that mean Central might explode and freeze us into popsicles?’

“If there’s a leakage, yes. But it’s unlikely to cause a large scale explosion unless someone does it deliberately.”

‘Like trying to weaponize it.’

“Yeah.”

Len fills up five vials and makes sure they’re sealed tight before wrapping them in a shirt and putting them away. Lisa will kill him if he get himself frozen by accident. Smiling, he thinks of the message Lisa sends him through Barry. It’s a miracle that they haven’t lost anyone, and Len intends to keep it that way.

‘Do you think this could be Wells? Maybe something went wrong with his experiment and - the timing is just too convenient. He invented an engine with an eternal energy source that could produce ice just as the world went into winter. This can’t be a coincidence.’

Len has certainly entertained the possibility. After all he has had a lot of time to think, and this seems like an explanation as good as any, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? What is done is done. He never likes the world even before the Big Freeze.

“Out of all the things Wells has ever done, this actually matters the least to me.”

‘For real?’

Len snorts. “He put bombs in people’s heads.”

‘Point taken.’ Barry pauses. ‘Do you remember anything from before? How old were you then?’

“Twelve.” But knew too much about cruelty for his age. Len lies down on the sleeping bag. He had never known kindness until Henry and Joe. Funny how things turned out. “There aren’t much worth remembering.”

‘Oh.’ How Barry can sound so heartbroken and sympathetic in a single syllable is beyond him. Len smiles a little. ‘But you remembered movies, right? Cisco said you are a Star Wars nerd, which is totally a compliment coming from him.’

“Well, he’s not wrong.” Len marathoned the whole franchise with Lisa when he was eleven. Lisa was four back then, which was probably too young to understand the story. She loved the lightsaber scenes, though, and actually did a pretty good job imitating the moves. She got better over the years. Always the graceful dancer. “You?”

‘My dad loves Christmas movies, so we watched a lot of those.’ Barry laughs. ‘It’s embarrassing, but I can’t remember how many times we’ve watched Love Actually. My mom said it was exactly like how they got together. I don’t know which storyline she was talking about, but I’m not sure I want to know.’

“Hm, maybe it’s John and - “

‘Oh my god I hate you. Why do you have to put that image into my head - Wait, you’ve watched it?’ Barry sounds  _ delighted _ . He sounds like Christmas - the real, before apocalypse in a not abusive family Christmas - has just come and he’s watching his first snowfall. ‘You watched it and you remembered the names!’

“I’m good with names.” Len pulls his coat tighter around himself. “And your dad showed it to me. Couldn’t say no.”

‘My dad?’

“The one and only.”

‘Oh! That one time he said he lost his laptop - he left it with you.’

“Us,” Len says. “Told him it might raise suspicion. He said he’d find a good excuse.”

Barry bursts out laughing again. Len likes the sound, likes how it fills the room with his presence. ‘He really, really didn’t. He said he tripped and it flew out of the window. I was barely ten and even I knew he was lying.’

Len chuckles. “Should have told him what to say.”

‘You got a better excuse?’

“I’m an excellent liar, Barry,” Len hears the truth of it the moment he says it. That’s what he’s always been. First a brother. Then a liar. “That’s the thing you need to remember about me.” He pauses. Why is he saying this? He should keep his mouth shut, but - “I’d do anything to keep her safe, and I won’t hesitate to sacrifice anyone if it means saving her. I’d lie. I’d cheat. I’d kill.”

Barry falls silent for a moment, then he says, ‘For a liar you’re awfully honest.’ His tone is light, almost amused. ‘We all have our priorities, Len. It’d take me much longer to make the choice, but the choice will only get made for me if I ignore it.’

“I'm telling you not to trust me, Barry.”

‘Well, too late for that.’ Barry chuckles. ‘You know how my dad is. You can’t be worse than the people we’ve trusted before.’

Len sighs. “You really are your father’s son.”

'And from what I’ve heard you're nothing like yours.'

Len rolls to his side and closes his eyes. He hopes he can believe it's that simple, but for all he is a liar, he's always been brutally honest with himself. He doesn't deserve to not be.

"How was your class?" he asks. Barry doesn't call him out on changing the subject. He never does.

'We did an experiment today. There might be a tiny little explosion.’ Barry goes on to describe how his two favorite students bonded over their failed experiment and how adorable that was. Len listens, letting Barry's voice wash over him.

Fourteen days.

* * *

Central STAR, March 8th, 2035

Carriage 9

Blood. So much blood. Is it possible for human to survive this degree of blood loss? Barry tries to breathe but his body doesn't feel like his own. The world starts to blur around the edges.

"Barry, help me or get out!" Caitlin snaps, her gloved hand pressing into Captain Singh's neck. "There's no time to panic!"

Singh could die. It hits him suddenly. His body moves before he can pull himself together. He helps Caitlin move Singh onto the surgical bed. The blood feels warm on his hands and God, Rob had been the one who brought him here. Singh has to be okay. He has to be.

“Your dad will be here in a minute." She soaks the blood on Singh's face to get a better look at the wound on his left temple. Only a flesh wound. She starts cleaning the wound and shit, she can't -

"Barry, what the hell are you doing?" She glares at the hand around her wrist - Barry's hand. Barry shakes his head. He tries to talk, but he's having trouble making even a sound. "Barry, I swear to god - "

The door opens and Rob comes back in with Barry's dad. Barry looks over at his dad helplessly. He doesn't know how to explain without dragging Caitlin into this mess. His dad rushes to the bed and exchanges a look with Rob.

"There's a bomb in his head,” Rob whispers, leaning into her ears. "It can't get in contact with air."

No, no, no. Barry shakes his head. How does Rob know and how could he just tell her? "No," Barry croaks. "Not her too. No - "

"Later," his dad says, holding his eyes, then Caitlin's. "Now we save him."

Eddie knocks and comes in to check on them after - a few hours, maybe. Barry's lost track of time - He looks as helpless as Barry feels, but Barry's too wound up to offer him any comfort.

"I'm sorry," Eddie says. "Dr. Wells wants me to get you as soon as Captain Singh is stabilized."

"We can't tell for sure," Caitlin snaps. Rob's words have sunk in, and she's finally letting herself think after the surgery. "What's so urgent that he's stopping the only qualified doctor here to - "

"Caitlin," his dad says, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "If anything changes I'll come right back no matter what Wells wants. Anything."

"Here." Eddie hands her a radio. "Contact me with this and I'll get Doctor Allen out."

She snatches the radio and marches back to Singh's bedside, pulling a chair next to Rob. He looks up briefly then looks back at Singh, his hand holding Singh's hand and absently smoothing his thumb over the wedding band.

"Be careful," Barry says to his dad and gives him a hug. "You promised," he says to Eddie. Eddie gives him a grave nod.

Barry watches them leave before joining Rob and Caitlin. There aren’t enough chairs. He sits on the floor with his back against the bed frame.

"David told me," Rob said quietly. "For years I could see he was hiding something from me. He finally broke a week ago. Saw something at the back and got drunk enough to tell me everything."

Barry lets out a deep breath. "But Caitlin - "

"Is right here," Caitlin says, lowering her voice like they've been doing.

"It's no longer safer for us to know nothing, Barry." Rob sighs. "I know Wells threatened to kill her, but she's too valuable for him to do that without evidence. When things start happening, it's better she knows which side she's on."

"I have one in my head, too, don't I?" She holds onto the bed frame, her knuckles white. "That was why you pulled away."

"There were a lot of threats going on," Rob says.

Caitlin squeezes her eyes shut. "I can't believe," she chokes out. "God." She wipes her face roughly. "I was so blind."

Barry had been blind for years. Hartley's ostracism was a warning sign, but if they hadn't heard Wells's conversation with captain Singh, they wouldn't have really looked.

Slowly, Barry lays his head on her knee. She carded a hand through his hair and leaned down.

"I trusted him, Barry," she whispered. "I believed his lies."

Barry finds her hand and squeezes. “We all did.”

They take turns changing out of their blood-stained clothes. Barry also urges them to get some rest, but neither of them budge. When Singh wakes up, Caitlin’s immediately at his side, checking his vitals. Rob moves away to let her work, but never lets go of Singh’s hand.

“Morning, sunshine,” Rob says. “You gave us quite a scare there.” His voice breaks at the end of the sentence. Singh pulls their tangled hands to his lips.

“Sorry,” Singh croaks. “Broke my promise.”

Rob shakes his head. “You came back. That’s what matters.” He smiles. “But if you want to make it up to me - ”

“Not when the kids are here, darling,” Singh says. His voice is weak, but much lighter than he's ever been. Rob chuckles.

“I was going to suggest a foot massage, but that works.”

Caitlin steps back, a small smile on her face. She pours a glass of water and drops a straw in it before handing it to Rob. Rob helps Singh take a few sips.

“Thank you, Dr. Snow.” Singh starts to sit up. Barry adjusts the bed for him and put a pillow behind his back. “Barry.”

Barry sits on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle Singh's wounds. "What happened, Captain?"

Singh looks over at Caitlin, who gives him a nod and taps her temple. "My conscience finally got the better of me."

Barry lets out a soundless "oh." Singh continues, "They crossed the line."

"Wouldn't Wells - "

Singh shakes his head. "They also threatened Rob. That gives me an excuse. We are safe as long as he thinks I’m only acting out to protect him. He's going to come taunt me again, but he can't afford to have either of us lose control or have both of us dead unless we give him a very good reason." Singh's lips twist into a grim smile. "He's running out of people to kill."

Barry scoffs. What a time to be alive. They're safe from cruelty because of the cruelty itself. He wonders if there's a chart somewhere in Wells's room calculating how many people he can kill and how many he has to. What's the ideal population size for Central? Fifty? Sixty? A hundred?

"How's the person they've been - ?"

"Burn. Second or third degree." Singh purses his lips. "He'll live as long as there's no complication."

Barry winces. Rob gives his shoulder a squeeze. "I talked to their people. They know what they're doing. It'll scar but he should be fine."

"That's - good."

Singh smiles wryly. "Small victory."

Rob carefully lies down beside Singh. "You're a good man, David." He drops a kiss on Singh's temple. "I wouldn't have settled for less."

Wordlessly, Singh pulls him closer. Barry gets off the bed and looks at Rob, then Caitlin.

"You should get some rest. I can keep watch." He smiles at her. "We'll talk tomorrow. Really talk."

She nods. Then she hesitates before reaching over the bed to pull Barry into a hug. Barry buries his face into her shoulder. She's trembling.

"Goodnight, Cait."

Caitlin snorts. "Been a while since someone called me that."

She smiles like she used to before turning to leave. Barry could’t help but swoop her into another hug. This time, she laughs.

"I miss you too, Barry. Now let go of me so I can go to bed."

Barry grins. Small victories, but maybe those are what really matter.

* * *

Central STAR, March 9th, 2035

Carriage 24

The left side of Mick’s face is charred and leathery. Pale, but angry. Lisa can still remember the sizzling sound and the charcoal smell. She’d have done something they’d all regret if Mick hadn’t been conscious enough to stop her. The others still might have done something though, if the captain of the guards hadn’t stepped in and got himself shot.

Wonders never cease. Another guard with a conscience.

This might put a wrench in their plan, though. Who knows if Wells would replace the guards with someone less volatile and gullible. Their three stooges are alive, but out of commission. Concussions and a few broken bones. Lisa sincerely hopes them a speedy recovery. Better the devils she knows.

Still, it was satisfying to hear the guards screamed.

“You are making that face again,” Iris says, laying her head on Lisa’s lap. They’re on the bed next to Mick’s with Lisa sitting on the edge, her legs dangling, and Iris lying down with her knees bent. How they end up like that Lisa isn’t sure. Iris is a master of sneak-cuddling. “Your murderously calm face.”

Lisa snorts. “Murderously calm?”

“Your it-takes-me-all-my-self-control-to-not-kill-you face. Your calm-before-the-storm face.”

“Have I told you lately how I love your way with words?”

Iris grins. “Just yesterday, I think.”

“You could have been a best-selling author if Eobard hadn’t fucked up the world.”

“You could have been a professional dancer. I’d write your biography. Joe’d sing the theme song when your story is adapted into a movie.”

Lisa chuckles. “Well, I don’t think any of that could happen even if the Big Freeze hadn’t happened. Actually, I think I have a better chance in this - Oof.”

Iris has her arms around Lisa’s waist and her face burrowed in her shirt. Lisa lays a hand on Iris’s hair and the other on Iris’s shoulder.

“You’re gait n I gon rugya til ya agee vee me.”

“Come again?”

Iris tilts her head and looks up at her. “You’re great and I’m gonna hug you until you agree with me.”

“I’m not saying I’m not great now, Iris. I happen to think I’ve become quite a wonderful person.”

Iris breaks into a wide grin. “Damn right.”

They both look over at the door when it opens. Shawna walks in with a blanket in her arms and shadow under her eyes. Lisa sent her to rest after her spending the whole day taking care of Mick, but Shawna is nothing if not stubborn. They all are.

“You should have at least taken a nap.” Lisa says.

“I’m taking a nap now.” Shawna drops the blanket on Iris and pulls Iris’s legs onto her lap as she sits down. “How are you so warm?” She pokes at Iris’s rib. Iris’s body always runs hot even in this weather. It’s a mystery they’ve yet to solve. “Wake me up in two hours.”

“Seven,” Lisa says.

“Three.”

“At least five.”

“Lisa - ”

“Shawna - ”

“Fine. Five hours.” Shawna catches the blanket Iris throws at her and covers both her thighs and Iris’s legs. “But if he so much as sneeze - ”

“I doubt he’d sneeze, but yeah, I’ll wake you up.”

“You better.” Shawna lies down and closes her eyes. It doesn’t take her long to fall asleep. She’s been awake for more than 24 hours after all. Lisa still doesn’t know how Henry could spend his day treating patients at the front and his night treating more patients back here. She’s starting to suspect that being doctor requires a mutation that’ll allow your body to function without sleep. If so, Lenny’d make a good doctor.

He won’t agree with her, of course, but he’s never been a fair judge for himself.

“Hey, Lisa.”

“Yeah?”

“How do we decide who deserves to be hurt and who doesn’t?”

Lisa is silent for a few seconds. “What brought this up?”

“My dad said the Captain is a good man.” Iris sighs. “The bombs - Eobard has leverage over a lot of the people at the front. Some of them are simply blinded by his lies. How would I know if I should pull the trigger? How do I know if I can?”

“You don’t. You wouldn’t.” Lisa smiles grimly. “You make your decisions. I make mine. There will be people who think they’re only following orders. People who hurt others because they enjoy it. People who kill for the sake of their loved ones. Like I am. Like I’ll be.”

Lisa gestures at Mick.

“That guard would have been dead if I could have done it without putting our plan at risk.”

Iris holds her gaze for a moment. “Is there a line at all? Murder and self-defense. If all we need is a justification - Eobard has plenty, doesn’t he?”

“Well, his justifications suck.”

Iris huffs out a laugh. Lisa pats her on the shoulder and continues, “I don’t have an answer, Iris. I know who I refuse to lose. That’s the only thing I can be sure of.”

“Refuse,” Iris says with a smile. “Yeah. That’s a good word.”

“You aren’t the only one with a way with words.”

“You’re crowding me out of the best-selling chart.”

Lisa laughs. In a way, she’s actually thankful for the Big Freeze. She isn’t sure if she’d have…  _ this _ if the world never ended. She remembers being four and already terrified of being home. She remembers being six and crying over Lenny’s bruises. She remembers being seven and finally understanding what family is.

“I’ll teach you how to dance after this. We’ll rock the world together.”

Iris knocks their hands together.

“That’s a promise.”


	5. Chapter 5

Train Station, March 10th, 2035

The radio crackles. Len frowns. He can hear a man and a woman arguing through the white noise, but not clear enough for him to make out who they are and what they’re talking about.

‘Stop - stubborn!’

‘Don’t - me!’

‘Oh for fuck’s - ‘ The sound clears up a little and the man says, ‘Len - Leonard? Whatever the hell they call you. Can you please tell your sister to stop being an idiot and go to sleep already? I mean, if any of us stay up this long she’d have knocked us out already, but her? Nah, she’s totally fine without sleeping for three fucking days.’

‘I have slept - ‘

‘Liar, liar, liar.’

‘That’s all you can - ‘

“Lisa?”

Len can feel his heart pounding against his ribcage. He knows she’s fine. But hearing  _ about _ her and  _ hearing her _ is two very different things. She sounds older than she did when he last saw her, which he knows is only logical, but he’s still somehow surprised and a little floored. What does she look like now, he wonders. How tall is she? Does she still keep her hair long? Has she been eating?

‘Lenny.’

Len closes his eyes. It’s been too long.

“What’s that about you not sleeping?”

‘It’s - I’m going to fucking kill Hartley.’ The man - Hartley - snickers in the background. Lisa sighs and says, ‘I’m fine. I’ve just been watching Mick. He’s been hurt. Burned. We took care of it.’ She pauses. ‘He’s fine. I just worry.’

“Guards?”

‘Yeah, and the captain stepped in. Isn’t that crazy? Another Joe West.’

Len hums. “We have more allies than we thought.”

‘Didn’t expect that.’ She chuckles. ‘Didn’t expect you.’

Len huffs out a laugh. “ _ I _ didn’t expect me.” He had said goodbye to her. He had been ready to die. “How’s everything?”

‘As good as it can be. You remember Shawna? She’s in charge of the clinic now. Iris - Joe’s daughter - helps. They do better than any of us can hope for. Hart here takes care of the techs. We can have hot water every once in a while thanks to him. It’s been - ‘ Her voice breaks. She takes a deep breath. ‘It’s been good. Getting better.’

Len roughly wipes at his eyes. “Good. I’m - proud of you.”

The other end is silent for a moment; then Lisa laughs. A bright and delighted sound that draws a smile on Len’s face.

‘You big sap. You giant dork. You told me you were alive by quoting Star Wars!’

Len grins. “Well, it works.”

‘Only because I’m a great sister and indulge you in your nerdy hobby.’

“Can’t fool me, sis. I know all about your obsession over the Skywalker siblings.”

‘I have it on good authority that you wanted to bang all three of the original trio. At the same time.’

“What can I say? I’m an ambitious man.”

‘You know what the most disturbing thing is? You probably would find a way to have a foursome with them if they weren’t dead.’

Len snorts. “I’d take that as a compliment.”

‘You’ve always been resourceful.’

“Well, you’ve always been better with people. You can probably just talk them into sleeping with you.”

‘And together we can rule the world.’

Len laughs. They’ve had conversations like this many times before. It is so easy to slip back into their old routine. They’ll always have this. He’ll always have her.

Lisa yawns. Len chuckles. “Bedtime stories?”

’You’re terrible at stories. I always fall asleep.’

“That’s exactly the point, sis.”

‘Can’t. We have to preserve power for later.’

Len can’t help the flair of disappointment in his heart, but he knows how bad it is at the back. This is already more than he can hope for. He didn’t know it was possible for them to reach out to the Outside without using the comm room.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Lisa,’ Hartley shouts from somewhere away from her. The other end of the carriage, perhaps. “We can afford to give you an hour or two with your brother. We’ll just cut down some hot bath time.”

‘Oh, Hart, I can’t take your hot water away from you. You’ll wilt.’

Hartley laughs. ‘Fuck off!’

Lisa says quietly, ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I may have picked up a stray.’

“You trust him?”

‘Yeah. And Mick loves him. You know how rare that happens.’

“Hm, I do know.” Len pulls the radio closer. “You on a bed yet?”

‘With blankets. Many, many blankets. Because Iris is a ridiculous woman and conspires with Hartley behind my back.’

“I like them already.”

‘You will.’

Len goes on to tell her about what he’s seen and experienced over the past ten years. About finding the station by accident. About becoming a pro at making instant noodles. About venturing into abandoned schools and discovering frozen condoms in the teacher’s office. He leaves out the bodies he found, the nightmares he had, the loneliness he couldn’t shake. She doesn’t need to hear it from him. She always knows, and she has enough nightmares of her own.

Len knows she’s been trying to stay awake, but exhaustion finally catches up to her, and she falls asleep. Len listens to her steady breathing. Growing up they have had many nights like this. Sometimes Henry would tuck both of them in, ignoring Len’s embarrassed protest, and tell them about Barry until they fall asleep. Once, Joe even sang them to sleep. The man has a soft voice and softer eyes when he isn’t staring down people he mistrusts.

‘Finally,’ Hartley says. ‘Thanks for putting her to sleep. Usually it’s Mick’s job to stop her from being a stubborn ass, but you know.’

“You sound close. Comfortable.”

‘Well, that tends to happen when you spent your impressionable years together after losing your family. Mine never care enough to come back for me though.’

“Dead?”

‘Nah, just close-minded dickheads. Lisa’s words, not mine.’ There’s a sound of the door opening and closing. ‘Now, pleasure to have made your acquaintance, but I need to shut this thing off. I’m sure you understand.’

“Of course. Wouldn’t want you to wilt, would we?”

‘You are so her brother. Goodnight, Snart.’

“Goodnight.”

The signal’s cut. Len lies back on the floor.

Nine days.

 

* * *

Central STAR, March 12nd, 2035

Carriage 24

The first thing Barry sees when he opens the hatch is the barrel of a gun. He really should have given Hartley a head’s up, but they haven’t been able to reached him, and Barry has never been good at waiting.

“Don’t move,” the woman says. “Identify yourself.”

Barry raises his hands in surrender and chances a glance at the woman. Under her short curly hair, her eyes are sharp and piercing. He really should have waited until they could have sent a message. “Barry, Barry Allen. I’m Hartley’s friend? And uh, Henry Allen’s my dad? Sorry to surprise you like this. We were gonna tell Hartley, but he hasn’t been online? Is he okay? Is everything okay?”

The woman arches an eyebrow. “Why are you here?”

“Cisco made a prototype and he wants Hart to have a look at it. And uh, I’m kind of worried.” Barry pulls the coat tighter around himself. This really isn’t a good place for talking. He can barely feel his own lips. “Has the man who got hurt recovered? I also bring some antibiotics if he has an infection.”

She holds his gaze for a moment. “Get in before my patient freezes to death.”

Barry jumps down at the same time a man says, “Not fucking likely. You people are obsessed with blankets.” He lands gracelessly on all fours and blushes when the man snorts. “Nice of you to put on a show, kid. I’m getting bored out of my mind here. The good doctor won’t let me go.”

Barry scrambles to his feet and looks over at the man on the bed. All he can see is the angry scar tissue covering half of the man’s face. He can’t imagine how it must have looked when the injury was still fresh. He swallows the taste of bile at the back of his throat.

“What? My ugly mug’s making you sick?”

Barry shakes his head vehemently and takes a few cautious steps closer. The woman watches him like a hawk. She no longer has her gun on him, but her finger is still on the trigger.

“Does it still hurt? I think I also have some painkillers.”

The man stares at him. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking about, or if he’s thinking about anything. “You’ll have to take that to the doctor. I know nothing about meds.”

Barry turns to her. She tenses up when he reaches into his pocket. He slowly pulls out the pack of medication he took from the clinic and hands it to her. She looks through the contents.

“Won’t say no to more supplies,” she says after a long stretch of silence, her shoulders a little more relaxed. “Now, you said you want to see Hartley?”

“Um, if you don’t mind?”

She smirks at his obvious discomfort and walks backward toward the door, her eyes never leaving him.

“Rathaway!” she opens the door and shouts. “Your childhood sweetheart is here!”

Barry fidgets. It’s late. Should she be yelling like that? And oh god he’s going to see Hartley. He’s not ready for this. He’s so not ready.

“You alright there, kid?” the man asks. ”You look like you’re going to faint.”

“Um, probably, yeah.” Barry looks around for either a good spot to hide or an escape route. There really aren’t much he can use here. “I’ll just - ” He holds onto the bedrail. “Relax.”

The door slides open and oh god, oh god, that blond hair and infuriating smirk and face that doesn’t look like it has aged a day - he should probably feel more embarrassed for bursting into tears, but Hartley looks exactly the same and he’s still wearing the same damn glasses.

“Barry, are you fucking insane? Crawling through the whole train without backup? Jesus, you’re crying already? Can’t you wait for me to finish yelling at you for being a reckless idiot?”

Barry throws his arms around Hartley. They’ve both grown taller and a little broader, and he can feel Hartley’s stubbles against his neck, which is weird. Hartley hates not being clean-shaven. But the frame of the glasses digging into his skin is so familiar he can’t help holding Hartley tighter.

“You’re ruining my reputation here, Barry,” Hartley complains, but he doesn’t do anything to dislocate himself. ”I’m supposed to be the aloof and mysterious one.”

The woman laughs. “Only in your dream, Hart. Don’t worry about this little reunion. You ruin your own reputation all the time.”

“It’s very touching,” the man says. “I’m moved to tears here.”

“Oh shut up, you two. Wait till  _ he _ comes back and we’ll see who’s the sentimental one.”

The woman says, “Not me. That’s for sure,” and puts away her gun. “This one, however.” She gestures at the man. “It’d be glorious.”

Barry wipes away his tears with the back of his hand and pulls away. Hartley’s looking at him with a small smile and his eyes are brighter than they’ve ever been. He looks so much more alive than he had been the last few weeks before he was thrown out of the front.

“It’s good to see you,” Barry says.

Hartley hums. “Same here.” He tilts his head. “Cisco?”

“He stayed just in case.” Barry chuckles. “We arm-wrestled to decide who got to come. Cisco’s going to be bitter about this for a long time.”

“You two fighting over me? I feel so loved.” Hartley knocks his fist against Barry’s shoulder. “Now, someone said something about a prototype?”

“Oh, right, here.”

It looks like a hybrid of paint gun and handheld vacuum cleaner. Cisco’s indignant squawk when he hears the remark makes Barry laugh just by thinking of it. Hartley raises an eyebrow at him before going back to inspect the prototype.

“I’ll have to open it up and take a closer look. Tell him to expect my message in a day or two.”

Barry nods. “And I’ll tell him you’re impressed.”

“You hearing things, Barry?”

Barry grins. “It’s on your face. I know that look, Hart.”

“Sounds dirty,” the man says. Barry almost chokes. “You two an item?”

Hartley snorts. “An item? What is this? The early 2000? And no, we aren’t.“ He turns to Barry and gestures at the man. “I don’t think they have introduced themselves.” He exchanges a look with the man, then the woman. Both give him an almost imperceptible nod. “Mick. Constantly making himself a punching bag. We don’t like it. Shawna. Our doctor. If you’re smart you’d be afraid of her.”

“Flatterer,” Shawna says with a wide grin. “Nice meeting you, Barry Allen. I’ve heard a lot about you. We all have.”

Mick smirks. “My Barry ran before he could walk - ”

“Oh my god - ” Barry groans. “Oh my god I can’t believe him. Did my dad just go around telling people about me?”

“More or less,” Shawna says. “My Barry sings like an angel. My Barry loves Christmas. My Barry has a crush on his teacher.”

“I remember that one.” Hartley cackles. He sounds like the Hartley Barry knew when they were little. “You were adorable.”

“Marshmallow bouquet,” Mick says. “Good choice.”

“I can’t believe he told you that.” Barry buries his face in his hands. His dad never meant to embarrass him, but he’s very good at it. “Is there anyone who hasn’t heard about my baby stories?”

Shawna hums. “Doubt it. We weren’t even the ones he spent most time with.”

“You mean Len?” Barry’s suspected Len knows more about him than he does Len because of his dad, but hearing his dad talking about his entire childhood - he’s not going to be able to meet Len’s eyes when they meet. “Oh god I don’t even know his full name and he probably knows all about my embarrassing crushes - ” He looks up when he realizes how quiet the others are. “What? Did I say anything weird?”

“You talk to him often?” Mick asks. Barry has to fight not to squirm under his unblinking stare.

“Yeah? Doesn’t feel right to let him be alone after all these years, and it isn’t a hardship or anything. I like talking to him.”

“Do you now?” Mick gives him an odd smile. “How much did he tell you?”

Barry frowns. “Why are you asking?”

“Just answer the damn question, kid.”

Barry shakes his head. “I don’t know what I can say to who. He hasn’t told me about who he trusts.”

There’s a moment of tension where Barry wonders if he’s crossed some line or completely misjudged the situation, but then Mick laughs and Shawna shoots him a half-smile. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to get killed.

“Take care of him before we can, will you?” Mick says.

“Um, sure?” Barry scratches his head. “It’s not like I can do much other than talk him to sleep.”

“Believe me. That’s a big part of taking care of him.”

Barry wonders what these people are to Len, and what Len is to them. Len has told him about his life at the back, but when it comes to the people he knows, he always kept it vague or simply left them out entirely. Barry isn’t sure if it’s because Len doesn’t trust him enough, or if Len just doesn’t think he needs to know. The two are probably one and the same in the end.

After all, they’re practically strangers.

“I should probably - ” Barry points at the hatch door. “Anything you need help with? Meds? Food?”

“We have people for that, Barry. Don’t worry about it.” Hartley smiles at him. “Just don’t come back without a very good reason. We’ll see each other in a week.”

_ If we both survive _ , Hartley didn’t say. Barry knows they both know there’s no telling if they’ll get through this together. “Can’t promise I’d be able to stop Cisco from paying you a visit.”

Hartley rolls his eyes. “You two idiots are going to turn my hair grey.”

Barry grins, pulls a chair to the spot right below the hatch, and climbs onto it.

“Take care, Hartley.” He turns to Mick and Shawna with a smile. “It’s nice meeting you two. Hopefully we’ll have a chance to know each other better.” He pulls open the door, flinching at the rush of cold air, and pulls himself up. Hartley’s quiet “Stay safe” is the last thing he hears before he closes the door.

 

* * *

Central STAR, March 13rd, 2035

Carriage 24

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“We’ve been through this, Lisa. You were sleeping. And if Shawna’s yelling didn’t wake you up, you need the sleep.“

Lisa pouts, which is a look that used to work wonders on Lenny, but Hartley has always been immune to. “I’ve heard so many stories, Hart. I could have made him blush so hard.”

Hartley snorts. “He blushed hard enough. I don’t think it’s possible for him to get any redder.”

“You never let me have any fun.” Lisa jumps off the bed and gets to Hartley’s side. There’s a beaker of blue liquid and a syringe on the desk. The… thing Hartley’s holding looks vaguely horrifying. The tube that’s most likely the sucking end is wide enough to fit an eyeball, and there are two metal probes on each side of the tube. “How’s the alien torture machine going?”

Hartley gives her an eye-roll. “I’m not using it to suck out anyone’s eyeball, Lisa.”

“But it can be used to suck out eyeballs.”

“I can scoop up eyeballs just fine with a spoon.”

“Ew.”

Hartley snorts. He uses the syringe to withdraw the blue liquid and turns it toward himself. Lisa grabs his wrist before he can stick the needle under his skin.

“You’re experimenting on yourself?”

“Relax, this thing is totally harmless even if I fail to extract it. And there’s no eyeball to suck out in my arm.”

“Well, if you’re so sure about it, do it on me.” Lisa sticks her arm out to him. Hartley looks up at her, his lips pursed.

“You’re so annoying.” He sighs. “I’m not entirely sure if the airgun will damage muscle tissues, okay? So no, I won’t try it on you. But I still have to try it on someone.”

The door to the back opens. “Then I suggest myself.”

Harry. Of course it’s him. He’s exactly the kind of crazy who’d stay outside for so long with the right amount of self-loathing to volunteer to be the guinea pig.

“If you’re looking for redemption,” Hartley says, “you’re in the wrong place.”

Harry drops his coat on a bed and pulls up his left sleeve, revealing the long ugly scar running from the crook of his arm to his wrist. “It’s pure logic, Rathaway. Injuring my arm won’t interfere with my primary function here. I’m your decoy, your distraction. Besides, my left hasn’t been working well since a long time ago. There’s no harm in making it worse.”

Rathaway. The thing about Harry is that he almost always call people by their last name to their faces, but he uses their first name when he’s talking about them.

“It’s always about logic to you, huh?” Hartley scoffs. “Lisa?”

She purses her lips. As much as she loathes to admit, Harry is right. The irreplaceable parts of Harry have always been his mind and the face he shares with Eobard. They can’t afford to injure their fighters or doctors or tinkerer, but Harry? An arm is fair game.

“How confident are you of this device?”

“Seventy percent, give or take. There’s a half chance that it’d cause lasting tissue damage.”

Harry gives her a nod when she looks at him. Lisa sighs. “Alright, go for it.”

Hartley waits for Harry to take a seat then slams Harry’s arm on the desk, but he’s gentle with inserting the needle under Harry’s skin. He frowns like he always does when he’s trying to concentrate, his nose scrunched up slightly. Harry exchanges a glance with Lisa over Hartley’s head. She can see the exasperation, the affection. If only Harry can open himself up the way he does when he’s drunk. They can’t possibly steal alcohol every time he needs a heart-to-heart with someone.

She knows he’s only using alcohol as an excuse. There are people who can’t keep their mouth shut when they’re drunk, and there is Harry.

“Now I’m going to try to get the ink out,” Hartley says matter-of-factly, but the stillness of his hands belies his hesitance. Lisa puts a hand on the back of his chair and shifts a little closer. “Three, two, one - ”

Lisa winces at the wet guttural sound it makes, but Harry only grunts. On his arm there’s a visible circle of tiny red dots of blood. Hartley wipes the blood away with a cotton ball.

“Ninety percent of the ink was extracted,” Hartley says. “This is most likely going to bruise. How’s your hand?”

Harry clenches and unclenches his fist. “No worse than before.”

“I’ll talk to Cisco. We’ll make some adjustment. The extraction has to be thorough.”

Harry nods. “If you need to do any - ”

Hartley shoots out a hand to muffle the rest of his words. “Like I said, this is not the redemption you’re looking for.” He pulls Harry down to his height by the collar. “Do I think you’re an asshole? Yes. Do I enjoy hurting you? No. I don’t like what you did, but I understand why you did it.” He smacks Harry on the forehead. Lisa has to bite back her laugh at the offended look on Harry’s face. “Stop hiding, Harry.”

Harry opens his mouth to say something, but no word comes out. For once, he is the one who looks confused and utterly out of his depth.

“I’ll tell you if we really need your ‘useless’ arm again.” Hartley smirks. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.”

Harry stares as Hartley walks away with the airgun in his hand and his laptop tucked under his arm. He frowns and touches his forehead.

“He really is something, isn’t he?” Lisa takes Harry’s left arm in her hand. She can see the fingerprints Hartley left on Harry’s skin.

“Yeah.” Harry sighs, staring at his arm. “He sure is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is slowly but surely spiraling out of my control. What even is pacing.


End file.
